Chapter 15: Something Blue

I wore blue.

It was my own dress, navy, from a work funeral two years ago, and I wore it because I wanted nobody to say I had been told.

The bridal shop on Market Street had a velvet couch, a champagne bucket and a mirrored platform in the center of the room.

Camille stood on the platform in a white dress with her arms out while a woman with pins in her mouth knelt at her hem.

Four bridesmaids in matching robes sat on the couch.

My mother sat beside them in her good cardigan, holding a tissue.

Waylon had come in behind me and stopped just inside the glass door with his cap in his hands.

"Samantha," Mom said, standing. "You came."

"I came to say something."

"Say it after. The saleswoman has your dress on the rack, a lovely blue chiffon, and we are running late."

Camille looked at me in the mirror.

She did not turn around.

"Hi, Sam," she said, softly. "Isn't it gorgeous?"

"It's a lot of dress."

"I'm told that's the idea."

The bridesmaids laughed.

I walked up to the edge of the platform so only she could hear me.

"Where's your phone?" I said.

Her smile held.

"Don't," she said, barely moving her lips. "Say one word in front of Mom and I'll tell her what you did to me."

"What did I do?"

"You know exactly."

"I took a picture of my family," I said. "That's all I did."

She got very still.

Then Mom put a hand on my arm and steered me, gently and firmly, toward the couch.

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